When You Wake Up
by Rainstorm Amaya Arianrhod
Summary: Jasson of Conte has the measles.


**A/N:** Cheer-up fic for Kat/treanz-alyce. **_Please read and review!_**

**Disclaimer:** TP owns Tortall.

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"Dada?"

It was a very small, thin voice, hoarse with coughing, but still Jon knew it at once. He looked around for his youngest son and found him, standing by the private door to the study with a blue blanket half-wrapped round him, half-trailing behind, thumb firmly stuck into his mouth. His eyes were still over-bright with fever and reddish from the measles, and the little itchy spots of the measles still marked his face.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Jon said. He should probably have said it sternly- it was probably expected of a king to be able to do the sensible thing and pack his child off to bed when he ought to be there for the sake of his health –but Jasson was only four, and he looked so pitiful standing there in a too-big child's nightshirt, and the sentence came out mildly, hardly an admonition at all. Part of him was pleased that Jasson had come looking for his father specifically; the whole time the children had been ill with the measles, it was their mother they had cried for.

Jasson looked disappointed, but not surprised. "Dada please?"

Jon looked at him, his eyes drifting over the reddish pattern of tiny blotches on the boy's face, and hesitated.

This epidemic had begun among the pages, brought back to the palace by the hapless Edmund of Rosemark and his older brother, and had spread rapidly, quickly infecting all five of the royal children. Roald and Kally had had it mildly and got over it very fast, but Lianne and Liam had had it so badly that they'd been taken down to the Healer's Wing and kept under intensive care with a Healer watching them night and day for a whole week, terrifying both Jon and Thayet. Jasson had caught the measles at the same time, but – Jon realised guiltily – had not received nearly the same kind of attention because Lianne and Liam were so ill. He always regretted the fact that he didn't have more time to spend on his children. He had tried to stay as close as possible to Roald and Kally, fearing that they would become alienated from him and believe he didn't love them if he didn't show them as much attention as possible, but the workload had only grown greater and he found himself relinquishing more and more time with his children, especially this youngest child. The idea that he hadn't been able to be there for Jasson when he was ill... when he still was ill...

Jon made a split-second decision, got up, and went over to the little boy, scooping him up and making him giggle; it turned into a cough halfway through. Jon wrapped the blanket better around his son, and shut the door properly, carrying Jasson back to his desk and sitting down again. "You can stay with me as long as you stay quiet," he promised. "Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Sleep," Jasson agreed, and one small hand worked its way free of the blanket and curled around a fistful of his father's tunic. He was not normally as restless as Liam, but this was still unusually compliant of him; the illness was making him tired and subdued. "Itchy," he complained after a moment, rubbing at the spots on his face.

"Didn't Duke Baird stop the itching?" Jon asked, and then said, "Never mind." He'd actually rather solve the problem himself, rather take care of his son himself, and although Jasson was a too-hot, heavy weight in his lap, it was nice to hold his son and know that the boy had come to him for comfort. He laid a cool hand on Jasson's forehead, and poured some of his Gift into soothing the itching, maddening irritation on the boy's skin, diverting a little to send him to sleep while he was at it.

Jasson sighed with relief. "Dada fix," he said confidently, tucked his thumb into his mouth, rested his head against his father's shoulder and fell asleep instantly. Jon smiled involuntarily, and smoothed Jasson's unruly dark hair back from his hot forehead. The child's feet stuck out at the end of the blanket, small toes capped with little blunt toenails, an adult's in miniature, and Jon was suddenly forcibly reminded of his children's vulnerability. They were so little and defenceless.

He stroked Jasson's forehead again, saw his son smile in his sleep, and went back to reading reports about grain with the boy curled up in his lap.

Two bells later, Alanna plunged into the room, precipitous as usual and a crease of annoyance and anxiety between the famous violet eyes. "Have you see-" she began at top volume, earning herself a glare from Jon, who indicated the still-sleeping boy in his lap.

"Oh," Alanna said more softly. "Well, so that's where my patient got to. Why didn't you take him back to bed?"

"He came to me," Jon said, and it was inadequate and didn't really answer the question but Alanna, bless her, still understood. "I thought Baird was looking after him?"

Alanna shook her head. "I took sole charge of Jasson when Liam and Lianne were so ill last week. Baird was draining himself trying to cope with all three."

"Oh," Jon said, and felt as if he should have known that.

Alanna started to clear her throat and then thought better of it, producing an interesting noise. Jasson frowned, but didn't wake. "Anyway. I have some medicine for him. Shall I..." She held out her arms for the boy, and Jon reluctantly moved to hand him over, but something was making it difficult; he looked down and saw that Jasson's hand was still curled tightly around that handful of tunic.

Jon dithered briefly between medical practicality and parental affection, and then settled his son back in his lap again. "Can you give it to him here? I'd rather keep him with me."

He could see Alanna hesitating.

"I promised I'd be there when he woke up. And he's been ill, and I feel guilty that I spent so little time with him. He needed me as well as Lianne and Liam."

Alanna chewed her thumbnail. "Stop beating yourself up. You were caught between a rock and the tide. Lianne and Liam were _very_ sick... You're not doing a bad job of making up for it now," she pointed out absently, nodding at Jasson.

Jon smiled. "Thanks. It... I wish I could spend more time with him."

"You try. That's the important thing. Or that's what I keep telling myself when Aly barely recognises me." She stirred, and moved back towards the door. "I'll go and get that medicine."


End file.
